


Babes and Sucklings

by wisdomeagle



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Curtain Fic, Food, M/M, Magic, Temporary Muteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-23
Updated: 2005-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/pseuds/wisdomeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plate of spaghetti - how Wes and Spike do domestic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babes and Sucklings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennixen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jennixen).



"Mrrmph!" Wesley looked up from the stove, mildly amused. Spike waved his hands angrily, and Wesley felt the urge, not for the first time, to swat him with the long wooden spoon he was using to stir spaghetti sauce. "Grragh!" Wesley shot him a disdainful look. It wasn't _his_ fault that Spike had gotten his lips stuck together with mystical glue mere seconds after recorporializing. If Spike hadn't been so free with his insults when he didn't have a body, he wouldn't have accumulated quite so many lawyers with petty revenge schemes. "Mrrpgahhh!" Wesley added a pinch of oregano to the sauce he was stirring, pointedly ignoring Spike. It was about time someone did. He was over a hundred years old and yet still managed to act like an extremely petty first form scholar from the Academy.

By the time Wesley sat down to his dinner, Spike had stopped trying to swear and resorted to glaring menacingly. He couldn't vamp out -- a side effect of the spell the incompetent in accounting had pulled -- so the result was rather ridiculous. The impression that he was dealing with a very immature teenager deepened, which encouraged him, in turn, to eat his spaghetti as slowly as he could, letting each strand slide between his lips, keeping a careful eye on Spike who, soul or no, couldn't be trusted not to try something if Wesley were so unwise as to turn his back.

As he licked a spot of sauce from his chin, a foot inched over the edge of his chair and pressed firmly against his groin. Spike still looked the picture of, if not innocence, at least currently unoccupied malice, but Wesley saw that he'd removed his left shoe. He sighed and, with infinite patience, unfolded his napkin and dabbed at his upper lip. He took a sip of wine, and his tongue inched out of his mouth to catch a drop of the dark red liquor. If Spike's mouth hadn't been shut, he'd have offered him some blood and wine; his refrigerator was always stocked with a small supply of pigs' blood, ever since he and Angel had reun-ever since - that thing - last year. He frowned, and Spike's foot pressed a little bit harder. His head cleared; he wasn't sure why he'd been so confused. Spike had very dexterous toes.

His discomfort increased as Spike rubbed him to hardness, but he insisted on finishing every last bite of the spaghetti, to punish Spike just a little bit longer, and to remind himself that he was always in control. Even when he let a vampire fuck him later tonight, he would be in control. The last piece of spaghetti disappeared into his mouth, and he roughly removed Spike's foot from his lap and deposited the dishes in the sink. Now.

"Come into the bedroom."

Spike refused to move and gestured emphatically at his mouth.

"I could make it so you never talk again."

Spike gestured for pen and paper, and Wesley, rolling his eyes, found him some. Spike didn't seem to grasp the concept of "elaborate game" - sure enough, he'd written "date rape!" on a napkin.

"And how do you explain where your foot was through dinner?"

Spike tried to sigh, realized his lips were still sealed, slammed his hand on the table, and followed Wesley into his bedroom.

Wesley leaned back on his bed, propped up on his elbows. Spike gave him a look, but joined him on the bed, lounging easily. Wesley stretched and sighed and put his hands on Spike's shoulders, kissing his sealed lips and starting to remove his shirt, sliding it off Spike's shoulders, marveling at his paleness. He nicked kisses down Spike's shoulder blades, circling around him carefully, and then Spike started to circle too, and his hands were cool and none too careful as they unbuttoned Wesley's shirt, ripping off two buttons and tearing a buttonhole, then hands resting on his hips, and his hands around the back of Spike's neck.

There was nothing elegant about tugging trousers off the ends of legs and letting them fall gracelessly to the floor. Nothing elegant as Spike jerked his hands jaggedly around Wesley's cock, as Wesley felt a hard prick pressed against his own leg. There was nothing elegant in Spike wrapping one hand around Wes's dick and the other around his waist, toppling them both off the bed and onto the floor. His back ached but he couldn't move, didn't want to, but bit Spike's shoulder, hard, and then closed his eyes and shuddered when Spike ducked his head and then --

"Grrammph!"

"Release," Wesley said, breathlessly, and then waited for Spike to start sucking, but instead he was subjected to a volley of expletives he hadn't heard since he'd left the Academy.

"That was all you had to do. That was all you bloody had to do without the pasta and the torment and the _wine_? And here I was thinking that you were the kinder, gentler Rupert Giles."

Wesley tensed immediately. "Just suck," he said, but Spike was already edging away, probably giving himself rug burn in the process.

"I've had enough of bloody girls and their bloody games."

"Spike."

Spike had been walking towards the door, trying to tug on his pants, but he turned around at the sound of his name. Wesley stood up, still bare, and kissed Spike; the vampire's newly freed tongue twisted into his mouth, wet and slippery and strong, pressing against his own tongue, sliding over the edge of his teeth. Spike's mouth tasted very faintly of blood.

He released Spike from the kiss and gave him a hard look. "No games, then?"

"Don't play games," Spike shrugged. "I'm a big boy now, and I play for keeps."


End file.
